"Highlighter yellow," she corrects with ease. It's an assumption, not all friends sit down and chart out each others likes and dislikes, all the important ones have always come to light on their own between her and Natsuno. Or been discovered together (clowns, fucking clowns and moon freaks, man). Though, after a pause... "Maybe auburn red."

You know. Like Rita Mordio's hair. Clarke's a good friend, though, and this is as much a hint as she gives Pal about the other little relationship blossoming in their group. But moving right along...

She tracks his gaze across the party and fixes on a well dressed stranger. The dance itself she'd missed, probably outside the main doors plotting and bitching with Steve Harrington, and something about that smugness in Palamedes' tone makes her wish she hadn't. Slowly, Clarke scans back to watch his profile and tilts her head in thought. Is she... jealous? It takes all but a second to come to the conclusion of: decidedly not. No room left in her chest cavity for that particular emotion, and absolutely no desire to harsh on Pal's pride. If anything, good for him.

And good for her, an easy avenue of teasing. An eyebrow arches, and for the first time since another public dancing spectacle, the corner of her mouth twitches up.

"Good dance?"